Helene’s hand: A personal account of the storm
Photo courtesy of Savannah Williamson
Treasure Hardwick, Staff Writer
A statement that college students throw around a lot is “you only live once.” Spontaneous trips to CookOut at midnight and shenanigans usually are not rare occurrences for young adults who live on college campuses. So, when a hurricane threatens your small town, naturally you will venture outside, clad in heavy-duty trash bags, and scream “YOLO” as you slide in the mud.
On Thursday, September 26, I woke up, eagerly checking my email hoping for canceled classes. I heard about hurricane Helene, and initially I felt giddy because a storm always poses the possibility of a break. But no notification came. So, I got ready and went to class. In class, my professor announced that Friday’s classes were mostly canceled. I let out a sigh of relief and went about my day.
Thursday evening arrived. The NGU campus buzzed with students dressing in raincoats and trash bags, excitingly braving torrential rain in order to have a good time and enjoy the mud slides that were multiplying by the minute.
A posse of young men created football teams and tackled each other in the rain, while young women jumped in puddles and jeered as the football game escalated to a full-blown mud war.
I must admit, it was a good time. My mud-stained jacket will forever serve as a reminder of that fun night where I let go and made hilarious memories with my friends. However, my ignorance to Helene’s catastrophic effects that would ensue in the following hours is uncanny.
During the early morning hours that Friday, I tossed and turned as the storm escalated from torrential rain to a full-blown storm. The wind sounded like a train, and it was so strong that it pushed hail against my window, creating a sound I wish I could forget. As I laid there, I wondered if I should be afraid. I prayed that everyone was okay, that everything would go back to normal the next day. Little did I know, this storm would go down in history.
I woke up the next morning, rolling over to check the time. My alarm clock had a blank screen, indicating that the power was out. I checked my phone and saw that I didn’t have service.
“The power is out all over campus,” my roommate said. “I think that the storm was a lot worse than we thought it was going to be.”
I looked outside to see several branches down. The beautiful campus that I have grown to love so much was a disaster. Tears welled in my eyes for the campus workers who spent so much time maintaining the grounds.
I quickly dressed and walked over to my friend’s dorm. Her room had flooded a little during the night, and she was using a dirty towel to soak up the water. I sat on her bed, and we debriefed about the night, still unaware of the hurricane’s actual effects.
For several hours, I sat in my friend’s room. We painted each other’s nails and braided each other’s hair as we ate Pop-Tarts.
Later, I found a spot on campus that had enough signal to text my mom.
My phone exploded with texts from her.
“Are you okay?”
“The storm was bad. I heard Greenville got it bad. North Carolina is devastated.”
Her frantic messages created a pit in my stomach. I responded to her texts, reassuring her that I was okay.
Around noon, I went to the cafeteria with my friends. Even though there wasn’t power, CMSE staff turned up the grill and cooked burgers for those still on campus. A line formed out the door of students waiting for food. Loud music played over speakers and people swallowed their worry and ate lunch.
After eating, my friends and I decided to pack into the car and venture off campus to see the damage and find an open grocery store.
As we drove, we slowly maneuvered around fallen trees and dodged large puddles. Power lines were strewn across the road for miles. My heart sank at the sight.
“Man, that Helene really did some damage,” my friend said in a way that was meant to lighten the mood.
Eventually we found our way to Publix. The store was packed with people buying water and non-perishable food. The lines wrapped around the aisles, but people were too sober to complain.
I found service again. This time my heart broke. I checked the news to find that North Carolina was devastated. Countless lives were lost and rescues were taking place.
I scrolled the news more, only to find out that Boone, North Carolina, the small mountain-town that I spent my childhood vacationing at, was destroyed. I wept, my heart aching for those suffering in western North Carolina and in Georgia.
I eventually called my mom, announcing that I was going to make the three-and-a-half-hour drive back to my home in Charleston, South Carolina.
As I attempted to find my way to the interstate that would lead home, my map constantly re-routed, as each road I turned on was blocked by a tree. After an hour of trying to find a way home, I gave up and went back to campus.
Friday night, several students gathered outside and sat in a circle, singing worship songs and praying for those who were affected by the storm. This moment felt holy. I knew that God had a plan, and that this storm’s devastation had the capacity to unite people.
The following day, NGU announced that classes were canceled until October 7. With this news, I again attempted to find my way back to Charleston. After an hour or so, I finally found the interstate. Thankfully, my gas tank was full. My car would have broken down otherwise because the gas stations were already pretty much out of gas.
After I got home, my mom made me soup, and I felt deeply comforted by the fact that my family was safe.
In the following days, I continued to learn about the devastation in upstate South Carolina and in surrounding states. I felt a sense of guilt for my initial excitement about the storm. Even though I do not regret YOLO-ing and puddle jumping, I learned my lesson: Don’t welcome the possibility of catastrophic damage and pain.
The United States, particularly North Carolina, Georgia, South Carolina and Florida, will never be the same. Towns, homes and precious lives were lost, and there is absolutely nothing that could be said or done to make it better.
However, there are ways you can help mend the hearts and homes affected by the storm. Check out this article to learn how you can make a difference: https://www.vpm.org/news/2024-10-01/hurricane-helene-donations-relief-western-north-carolina-blue-ridge-public-radio.
